


he was good, she was hot

by bitchasslowry



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Women In The NHL, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchasslowry/pseuds/bitchasslowry
Summary: ORIGINALLY POSTED ON TUMBLR ON SEPT 20TH 2020Sometimes it takes you five years to finally do something about your feelings about each other, but the Chicago Blackhawks are always here to help with relationship crisis’.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	he was good, she was hot

**Author's Note:**

> this is a reader insert fic. if that isn’t your thing than please go back now. i won’t be hurt don’t worry. i’m moving my reader inserts on here from tumblr. 
> 
> inspired by the song chelsea dagger by the fratellis

**YEAR ONE - 2016**

It’s embarrassing, really. The first day actually on the Chicago Blackhawks and you’re already making a fool out of yourself in front of Jonathan fucking Toews. You’ve only been in the United Centre for watching a singular game on a road trip you took with your friends years ago, so it’s not really all your fault that you get lost in the quite frankly confusing hallways in a weak attempt to find the dressing room.

Jonathan, ever the Captain Serious, has no trouble with showing you the way around, including taking the reins in introducing you to his partner in crime, the one and only Patrick Kane.

Now you’re like every other teenage hockey player which just means that you idolize the soon to be greats, and that just happens to encompass both of the men standing in front of you. They both just got off a playoff run that happens to be their third cup together, so you realize that you, a 20 year old rookie, have some big shoes to help fill.

“Kaner, have you met the new rookie?” Jonny asks, patting you on the shoulder a couple of times before watching Patrick turn around from puttering away at doing something in his stall. 

There’s literally nothing special about what he’s doing or what he looks like, but you still somehow can’t find the correct words to say. All you brain can think about is the poster that you have up in your childhood bedroom that features him during the 2010 Stanley Cup Finals. Dylan and Mitch, your draft-mates, also chriped you endlessly about your thing for Patrick even though you insisted that it was nothing, but all of those things that they said come rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

“No, but I’ve heard lots. Patrick, but most people on the team call me Kaner.” He sticks out a hand and you lag behind a bit, waiting a beat to grab his hand and shake it ever so slightly. He said that you can call him Kaner, oh my God. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Big fan.”

“Uh, yeah I am.”

He laughs a bit and you feel like dying right then and there. Going to prospect camp was a huge fucking mistake because it ended up with you getting laughed at by Patrick Kane. Great.

“No, I mean that I’m a big fan of you,” he says running his hand through his curls a little bit. And maybe you’re hallucinating, but it looks like his cheeks turn a little bit pink after he explains himself to you.

Oh. Oh.

“He bought your OHL jersey, by the way,” Jonny adds, waltzing his way over to his own stall like he didn’t just drop the biggest and more important piece of knowledge that you have ever heard in your entire existence. 

This time, you know for sure that Patrick blushes.

-

**YEAR TWO - 2017**

Hey, it’s Patrick, Jonny gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.

You’re honestly just trying to enjoy a peaceful night in your little apartment before a roadie with your new team, but of course Patrick has to waltz in, this time via text message, to somehow make things both better and worse all at the same time.

Getting sent down to the Ice Hogs for a year to build your confidence as a player seems to have done you some good on the ice, but they didn’t really go over this part of playing for the actual Blackhawks

yeah no problem! what’s up?

Can I call?

A few minutes after you respond your phone starts ringing with Patrick’s name popping up on the screen. You answer it almost a little too quickly.

“Hey, how’s it going?” You ask, sinking yourself lower into the couch and tucking your feet up. The two of you make small talk about you fitting into the team and settling into your apartment, all good things. There’s a break in conversation and a beat of silence which Patrick decides to use to his advantage.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

You think for a split second before answering. “Uh, no I haven’t. Why?”

“Well,” he starts, taking a breath in. “Would you like to come over? I know you just moved in and it’s a lot so I thought that, uh, yeah.”

You smile softly to yourself at the quiver of nervousness in his voice, and you take a second or two to process his request. 

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

True to your word, you show up at Patrick’s apartment right on time with you only having to wait a moment out in the hallway from his to open the door for you. The two of you exchange greetings and he gestures you in, taking your coat to be hung up in the front closet.

From the looks of it, there's take out boxes on the coffee table in the living room with the Stars game playing idly in the background. “It’s not fancy, but I overheard you talking to Duncs about liking Thai food so I took a guess.”

You plop yourself down on the couch and take a look at the small spread of food in front of you, smiling at the kindness Patrick has been showing you especially tonight.

“This is great, Pats. Thanks.”

He cocks his head to the side a little bit and raises an eyebrow. “Pats? No one’s… ever called me that before.”

You shrug and pop open the lid to the Pad Thai box with what looks like your initials on it, taking a pair of chopsticks and breaking them apart. “I think it suits you.”

Patrick shakes his head and laughs looking down at the ground. His hair bounces a little bit with his movement and your cheeks flush hot, but you simply pat the cushion beside you in a small invitation to sit beside you.

“Food’s getting cold,” you say around some of the noodles in your mouth. “Pats.”

He smiles and pokes you with his own pair of chopsticks before planting himself down and turning his attention to the tv, his thigh pressed up against your own and sharing his body heat.

-

**YEAR THREE - 2018**

It’s not until after the All Star break that you and Patrick really start spending a lot of time together. Most of the time when you go out with the team after a good win the two of you spend your evening in a booth, each nursing drinks as you talk idly about the game, life and everything in between. Patrick likes to talk about his sisters a lot and mentions on multiple occasions that he thinks you and them would get along really well. He tells you that next time they’re in town you’ll have to meet them. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing that Patrick wants you to meet his family, but you ignore it for the most part.

Jonny has been noticing that you and his best friend have certainly been spending a lot of time together, leading him to chirping the both of you on separate occasions. Pat is in the bathroom one evening after a shutout against the Bolts when Jonathan slides up next to you, taking a swig of his own beer.

“You and Kaner have been getting cozy.” You roll your eyes at Jonny’s remark and he simply smirks at you in return. “Just making an observation, Sticks. He likes you a lot; this is the happiest I’ve seen him in a while if I’m being honest.”

You smile and put your head down, avoiding Jonathan’s stare.

“Take care of him for me.”

You nod and nudge him in the side with your shoulder. “I’m not gonna take your boyfriend away from you, Jonny. Relax.”

He lets out a snort of a laugh and pats you on the head. “I’m willing to share.”

Just in time, Patrick comes bouncing back over to the table which Jonny takes as his cue to leave, sliding himself out of the booth and striding over to chat with Duncs. Patrick gives you a confused look and you just shrug. “Our captain is weird.”

“Even I don’t understand him sometimes.”

The little pep talks at nights with the boys just keep happening. About three in Jonny brings up a conversation that makes your stomach drop.

“Have you noticed that he never picks up anymore?”

Jonny isn’t wrong. When you first joined the team nearly all the single guys would disappear by the end of the night, and then mysteriously show up the next morning for an optional skate. You aren’t any stranger to doing the same thing either. Sometimes you’d hit it off well with a particularly hot guy that can actually hold a conversation for more than three seconds and end up going home with him.

That still happens for you every once in a while, but thinking about Patrick, you haven’t seen him even hit on a girl as of late. Of course he’s gotten attention by the regular leggy blondes that always seem to find their way over to him, but nearly always he seems just about as disinterested as when Jonny goes on his rants about some neat gluten free food he likes. Patrick finds those mind numbing, and that’s an understatement.

You refuse to acknowledge his strange behaviour and just go along with it, playing hard when you need to for the team and still maintaining the facade that you aren’t noticing anything different with one of your closest friends. 

-

**YEAR FOUR - 2019**

Your year is coming to a close and the playoffs are fast approaching, which calls for some form of decompresser after a particularly tough practice. You invite Patrick back to your apartment, now fully decorated and lived in, for a night of movies and the tastiest, diet approved food that you can manage to find.

Dinner is as good as it can be with a protein bar afterwards as a sorry excuse for dessert, but oh well. The sun is setting down in the west of Chicago and casting a soft orange glow onto the city and into your living room window.

Dead Poets Society is playing and is nearly half an hour away from finishing when you feel some shifting beside you and then suddenly a weight on your left thigh. Taking a look down you notice that Patrick has made himself comfortable on your lap, his hoodie pulled close to his body and his slowly growing playoff beard scratching against the soft fabric of your sweatpants.

You freeze for a bit before gently resting your hand on his shoulder and rubbing little circles over the fabric of his hoodie, still trying to pay attention to the movie in front of you. You get about five minutes into the new position that seems like a sort of half cuddling thing before he makes a little humming noise, taking your attention off the TV.

“Can, uh. Can you, maybe, just play with my hair a bit?”

You stop your hand on his shoulder. “Really? You- you never let anyone touch it.”

He shrugs and snuggles down even closer to you, if that’s even possible. “You’re different.”

You wait a beat before slowly moving your hand towards his head, threading your fingers through his curls and scratching his scalp lightly. He lets out a content noise and visibly relaxes on your lap.

Continuing to tug gently at his hair and tucking it behind his ears just makes him relax even more, and you even swear that you hear him purr a little when wrapping an arm over your legs to get into a more comfortable position.

You can’t even figure out what the characters on the screen are talking about because you’re so distracted by Patrick. The lighting from outside makes his hair look more golden than blond with the curls wrapping themselves around your fingers as you glide them through.

You thank whatever spirit moved him this morning to not slick back his hair as much as he usually does, because even though you can still feel a bit of the gel in there cling to your hands the curls move freely and get fluffier with every light pull. Within ten minutes, nearly all of the gel is gone out of his hair, not that it was a lot, and it makes him look a few years younger.

A warmth fills your chest and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch him slowly fall asleep.

“Goodnight, Pats.”

-

**YEAR FIVE - 2020**

Jonny leads the charge out onto the ice after Patrick finally, after eleven years of playing the game, watches his 1000th point hit the back of the net. You hop over the boards right after Jonathan and skate your way over to embrace Patrick in a hug.

You slide to a stop and jump a little bit on Pat, wrapping your arms around him tight. He hugs back and you can feel his smile on the side of your neck where he’s nestled himself into. His stick is slightly in the way and sort of pokes you in the side, but it doesn’t bother you one bit, because your boy finally did what everyone has been waiting for.

“You did it. I told you that you’d do it,” you say to him over the loud cheering and the sounds of the rest of your teammates congratulating Patrick.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling away still smiling brightly. Patrick reaches up with a still gloved hand and lightly brushes a stray hair off your face that somehow snuck out of your helmet. “You did.”

A celebration is obviously warranted after such an eventful game that ecompasses Pat’s 1000th point, your two goals and a win against the Jets. You still have your dress shirt and slacks on at the bar with Shawzy supplying you with endless beers and you slipping Kirby one in secret because the kid deserves it.

About four in and feeling good, you find Patrick who is chatting with Jonny about God knows what. You decide to bring Patrick into a side hug with your arm slug over top of his shoulders. “There’s the first star of the night!”

Patrick smiles up at you, his tiny tooth gap that you find endearing showing quite prominently. “Hey, Sticks.”

He wraps his own arm around your waist from down on his chair and he keeps with his conversation with Jonny, bringing you into it as well. Across the bar you can see Adam and Kirby, the ever so delightful rookies, pointing towards you and Pat whispering about something.

Looking down at Jonny seems to get the same reaction with him trying to hide his smiles behind his glass holding a rye and ginger. You roll your eyes and play with the collar of Patrick’s shirt.

Conversation keeps flowing for the next half hour before you call it in for the night, feeling okay to walk home to your apartment that’s located only a couple blocks from the bar. You only get a few steps out of the building before you hear a few footsteps come up beside you, revealing Patrick.

“I thought I’d walk you home,” he says innocently. You nod and start picking up the pace of your walking, tugging on the suit jacket you wore to the game. 

The two of you walk in silence until you get to the front door of your building and Patrick stops you. “You did amazing tonight, by the way.”

You scoff with a smirk. “Me? Pats, you just proved that your name is going to be in the hockey hall of fame and your number is going to be raised to the rafters of the United Center one day.”

“Well, personally I think number eleven is gonna be right next to mine in the future as well.”

You can feel your cheeks get hot at Patricks words, and only get warmer when he takes a step closer to you, pushing your hair out of your face just like he did on the ice.

“You’re perfect. I hope you know that.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat and you seriously struggle to breathe, your heart racing. You boldly take your own step towards him and brush your nose against his almost as a silent invitation to make a move.

And he does. He leans in to close the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours and his eyelashes fluttering closed, tickling your cheeks. The stubble on his face scratches yours a bit and the cold Chicago air bites at your exposed fingertips, but you couldn't care less.

A few seconds pass before he pulls away with a hand still resting on your waist that you didn’t even realize he put there. You both take a few breaths of fresh air before smiling stupid at each other, you gripping onto his arms for some kind of support while you laugh.

“So that was-”

“Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you before you look around, seeing no bystanders staring at the two of you, something that you worried about for a split second.You reach up and run a hand along his cheek to the side of his head, tucking your fingers into his curls like you’ve done so many times before.

“Do you maybe want to come up for a while?” You ask, gesturing towards your apartment building. Patrick smirks and pulls you in by the hips gently. He presses a feather light kiss to the tip of your nose that’s red from the winter air.

“I would love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @bitchasslowry


End file.
